THE COLD HEART
When Peter went down to his glass-hut on Monday morning, he found not only his workmen there, but other and more unwelcome occupants, namely, the sheriff and three of his officers. The former wished him good-day, asked how he had slept, and then drew out a long list of Peter’s creditors.
“Canst thou pay—yes or no?” asked the sheriff, with a stern look. “Answer me quickly, for I have not much time to lose, and it will take me three hours to get back to the town.”
Peter’s heart sank; he was obliged to own that his last penny was gone, and to suffer the sheriff to begin valuing his goods.
As he and his officers went about, examining and valuing the house, the workshop, the stable, the horse, cart, and all, Peter said to himself that it was not far to the “Pine-thicket,” and that, as the little man had not helped him, he would now try what the big one could do.
He hurried to the “Pine-thicket” as fast as if the sheriff’s officers had been at his heels; and though, as he ran by the spot where he had first spoken to the little Glass-man, he fancied that an invisible hand was laid upon him, trying to hold him back, still he broke away, and hastened on, till he came to the boundary-line, of which he had taken good care to note the position before.
He had scarcely had time to call out in a breathless voice: “Dutch Michael! Master Dutch Michael!” ere the giant raftsman, with his long pole, stood before him.